Last Guard by Nalini Singh

Chapter 10

Honor born

Knight to a king

My blood my coin

—“Loyal” by Adina Mercant, poet (b. 1832, d. 1901)

PAYAL STARED ATthe nutrient bar in her hand as she stood in her private apartment in Vara. Her throat was dry and her heart, it beat too fast.

7J had given her food again.

“Not 7J,” she rasped. “Canto.”

But this bar she held, warm from her body heat, it told her that 7J remained alive inside the stranger who was Canto Mercant. The boy who’d cared to hear her opinions had grown into a man who thought who she was—rigid, robotic, uncharismatic—had value.

He’d compared her to a general.

He’d be disappointed when he discovered 3K was dead, buried so effectively that she’d never again be the girl he’d known. 3K couldn’t exist if Payal was to live a life of sanity. But he hadn’t yet learned the bitter truth, so perhaps she could continue to interact with him in this strange way. With a kind of raw honesty that stripped away the barriers people put between themselves and the world. In Payal’s case, those walls were so high that no one else had ever been invited in.

Her sister, Kari, was too young for them to have that kind of a relationship. And though Payal knew there were people in the Rao empire who were loyal to her, those people were all also beholden to that empire for jobs and security. The power imbalance was an ever-present part of their interactions.

Canto, however, needed her for nothing on a personal level.

Even the anchor work—had she said no, he would’ve been able to find another suitable individual, she was sure. She’d been his first choice, but not his only one. Still, to be anyone’s first choice …

All her life she’d had to fight and fight. Every role, every position, she’d won it through white-knuckled combat of a kind that left no physical bruises. Canto had just offered her the position of head of the anchor union. He’d also done so before he knew she was 3K, so it had nothing to do with the bonds of the past.

Payal allowed herself a quiet exhale, then unwrapped the bar with extreme care before taking a bite. Only after she’d finished the whole thing did she get a sealed bottle of water from her tamperproof cooler and drink. Then she did a foolish thing. She smoothed out the wrapper and placed it within the pages of one of the hard-copy books she had on the shelves in her bedroom.

The book held artwork created by Karishma. Payal only dared display one piece—a large painting of Vara on canvas that her sister had done for her final grade the previous year. Unsigned and with an aged look to it, it could pass as décor that had been in the mansion prior to Payal’s usage. Everyone in Vara was used to the amount of art—hidden and out in the open—that lay in its history.

So Karishma’s painting could hang openly in Payal’s office without anyone noticing it as anything but an appropriate type of decoration for the office of a CEO. Psy might have given up creating art under Silence, but her race had always understood that even the Silent reacted subconsciously to certain elements of their environment.

The book, on the other hand, held pen-and-ink sketches that were nothing if not modern. Payal’d had them bound in a decoy cover that made it appear to be a dusty tome on tax law. Should Lalit ever manage to invade her inner sanctum, he wouldn’t bother to look inside those books, would simply dismiss them as another sign that his sister had no life beyond the Rao business.

Good.

Payal didn’t want him to look deeper. Didn’t want him to remember Karishma, or the others Payal had secreted away to safety. And she never wanted him to find a way to taint the haunting and honest relationship she had with a man who held galaxies in his eyes.

CANTOcouldn’t settle after returning home, so he went out onto his deck and brooded while staring out at a landscape of lush, thriving green. Though it might seem like he was in the middle of nowhere, he was actually on the public edge of StoneWater land, near the road that led into their wild territory.

His move to Moscow had been unexpected. He’d been based in a small town in Germany for the past decade. But then, while doing his unofficial census, he’d seen that the aging anchor in the Moscow region had started to show signs of a troubling kind of exhaustion. Worried, Canto had reached out to see if he could assist.

Balance of it was that Canto’s anchor region had proved “smaller” in terms of energy output. He’d offered to swap regions and the other anchor had gratefully accepted. All of this had happened soon after Silver ended up mated to an alpha bear.

Which explained why Canto had been permitted to set up his base in StoneWater territory. He hadn’t asked for it—that would’ve been an asshole move with Silver so newly mated. Instead, he’d moved into a place on the outskirts of Moscow, taking it over from one of his other cousins—Ivan. A security operative who worked under Canto, Ivan had shifted his home base to San Francisco just prior to Canto’s arrival.

Officially, he was there to get up to date on his computronic security certifications by undertaking a highly specialized course. Unofficially, he was there to gather intelligence on the various power players in the area. A lot happened in that comparatively small region, and Ena wanted the family to have a larger presence there.

So it wasn’t as if Canto hadn’t had a perfectly adequate residence.

Then had come that infamous party to celebrate the mating, when Valentin and his bears decided they liked Canto. The bears had liked Ivan, too, but—according to a gossipy older member of the pack—had considered Canto’s suave cousin a bit too “slinky” for total comfort. But since the bears adored Arwen, Canto had a feeling the disconnect had less to do with Ivan’s sharp dressing, and more with the core of distance Ivan carried within.

The bears could sense it but didn’t realize it wasn’t personal: of all the Mercant cousins, Ivan was the most remote. Canto knew the reason Ivan was how he was, but no one unaware of Ivan’s history could be expected to divine it. The only one who could get him to open up was Arwen—and that was enough. Their empathic cousin would never allow Ivan to lose himself to his demons.

Arwen had even convinced Ivan to attend the celebration of Silver and Valentin’s mating.

A month after the event, and Valentin had come to Canto with a proposal. “I think my Starlight should have some more of her family close to Denhome,” the bear alpha had said. “My clan is madly in love with her, but if she needs to yell about us to someone not entangled with a bear, who better than a cousin as loyal as a brother?”

“Valya,” Canto had muttered, “Silver adores your pack. I went to see her in her office yesterday and found a naked cub in human form trying to hang upside down from a curtain rod.” Silver had worked on unperturbed, simply saying “No” when the cub tried to do a dangerous maneuver.

The cub had stopped at once.

And Canto had seen once again why Ena had chosen Silver as her future successor.

“Emergency babysitting when a packmate went into early labor while shopping with her boy,” Valentin had explained, eyes of dark brown aglow with a power usually hidden beneath the force of his warm presence.

“Canto, I know from Silver that the Mercants are as much a pack as StoneWater. I never want to cut my Starlight off from her pack—and I want our two packs to become family.” A smug bearish smile as he sat back, arms folded. “I’m charming your grandmother, you know.”

Canto had snorted. “You wish.” But he’d accepted the offer because he understood that it had been made out of love for Silver.

It had taken the bear clan and Canto’s family a short two weeks to put up the house according to his specifications. He’d managed the project and done all the computronic hookups, while the bears had provided manual labor, transport of materials, and engineering. Arwen had done the architectural drawings, with Magdalene sourcing the furniture, rugs, and other items to outfit the place.

As it was, he had as many bearish visitors as Mercants.

Such as the dark-skinned man who hauled himself up over the balcony railing just now, a small boy clinging to his back like a barnacle. Bears seemed to find using Canto’s front door optional.

“Chaos,” Canto said. “Did you know you picked up a butt-naked hitchhiker?” His Russian was passable despite his relatively short period of study—he had a theory it had to do with being an A. The Net was a constant river in his head, and parts of that psychic river spoke Russian.

Reaching back, Chaos pulled off his son with the casual strength bear parents used with their cubs, and threw the giggling boy up into the air. “Dima and I needed fresh air,” he said after catching his son in his arms. “He had on clothes until he decided to shift without taking them off.”

Dima shrugged, his face mischievous. “I’m a bear. Grr.” Then he jumped toward Canto, having learned that Canto was strong enough to take his rambunctious ways. The first time they’d met, the cub had come up to him and very seriously examined his chair, then asked if they could go “zoom.”

Canto was pretty sure Dima was his favorite bear.

Today, he hugged the boy and said, “Hungry?” because bear cubs were always hungry. Possibly because they never stayed still.

“Yeah!”

Canto put him on the wooden floor of the balcony. “You know where the snacks are.” He kept a stash suitable for small bears in a lower cupboard—the assortment courtesy of Arwen. “Chaos, how many things can he choose?” He’d learned that lesson when he hadn’t set any restrictions the first time—Chaos had had to deal with one moaning and stuffed-full cub.

“Two.” Chaos’s voice was the one Canto had labeled the “bear parent” tone. No argument. No playing. Do as you’re told.

Dima ran inside with a big whoop.

Grinning, Chaos hauled over a chair to sit next to Canto and held out a fist for him to bump. The bears, notwithstanding their reputation as rough and tough troublemakers, were highly intelligent and conscious of the Psy aversion to touch. They took “skin privileges” dead seriously.

Even the drunk bear who’d ended up in his lap had asked permission. He’d said yes because he’d been worried she’d otherwise face-plant right onto the asphalt.

Canto liked the changeling idea of skin privileges, of physical contact being considered a gift.

Payal’s face flashed in his mind, her skin so smooth and soft looking, her lips lush.

His abdomen tightened, his nerve endings afire. Not ready for the raw physical surge, he almost missed Chaos’s question.

Having leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the deck railing, Chaos said, “You sure you don’t get lonely out here?”

It was a quintessentially bear question. They lived in a sprawling den that Canto had been sure would drive Silver insane—yet his cousin was thriving in the midst of a nosy, loving, and occasionally insane pack that loved to throw parties.

“Arwen and Pavel dropped by yesterday for lunch, day before that it was my grandmother, and now you two,” he growled as he stripped off the gloves he wore to increase his grip during manual use of his chair; they also protected his palms from constant friction. Now he flexed his fingers and said, “How the hell is a man supposed to get peace and quiet?”

Chaos laughed, big and booming. “You do a good grumble. Almost like a bear.”

Small feet running back.

When Dima came around to Canto’s side, he saw that the boy held four snacks, not his permitted two. Surprised the small bear had disobeyed his father, he waited for Chaos to discipline him. But then Dima took a pack of dried apple slices from his stash and held it out to Canto. “You like apple.”

“Yeah.” Heart stretching inside his chest, Canto took the pack, then rubbed his hand over the boy’s tight curls.

Smiling, Dima ran over to give his father a pack of something called licorice allsorts that—to Canto—looked like tiny multihued bricks. “Look, Papa, your favorite.”

Chaos hugged his boy to his side. “You sure you don’t want it?”

“No, I got cookies and this.” He looked a bit dubious at his choice of dried mango strips, but determined. “I go play with Canto’s blocks now?”

“Sure.”

After the boy was happily involved in the play area Arwen had set up on the deck for Canto’s small visitors, Canto said, “You must be proud of him.”

“Every day,” Chaos said quietly, so much love in his voice that it made Canto ache deep within.

With no one in the Mercant clan currently parenting a small child—the youngest Mercant at present was sixteen—Canto had rarely even thought about children before coming to StoneWater territory. Now he knew he’d gut anyone who laid a finger on Dima or any of the other small souls in StoneWater.

Apparently, he had more Ena Mercant in him than he’d realized.

Beside him, Chaos tore open his child-sized bag of sweets. Canto did the same with his apple slices, and in the time that followed, the two of them just sat there, talking now and then, but mostly listening to the trees while Dima talked to himself as he played. It was a good feeling, sitting with a friend … but Canto’s mind kept being torn away to Delhi, and to a woman who appeared to have no safe haven.

His entire body threatened to knot with rage. He’d find a way to protect her—even if he had to do it in stealth. In saving his life, she’d gained herself a Mercant knight who would always, always be in her corner.